


Mise en Place

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Series: Giving Themselves [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hannibal season 1 episode 7, Set during sorbet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was the cooking staff thinking when that entire pre-dinner party scene went down between Hannibal and Will in Sorbet?  Written from their POV.  Pining and cooking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mise en Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devereauxs_Disease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/gifts).



>  
> 
>   
> 

There were catering jobs and then there were Catering Jobs. And anytime Doctor Hannibal Lecter threw one of his over-the-top dinner parties, the staff of Prodiguer clamored to be selected as his sous chef for the evening. Everyone knew that a single night under the supervision of Chef Doctor (as he was playfully known) was worth an evening of dealing with 100 covers, three 10-tops, and a million VIPs. Hell, it was even worth more than one-month’s experience at any of Baltimore’s finest restaurants.

Estefania, Rebecca, Jorge, James, and Sam were the lucky picks this time around -- Estefania being specifically requested by Chef Doctor for her exemplary work during his last event. She’d taken the part-time job at Prodiguer with the sole purpose of getting to work at one of Lecter’s events. She’d busted her ass to get to where she was, and a position at the Charleston was just within reach -- if she could play her cards right.

Packing the van, the crew prepared for the event. The envious eyes of the others on them as they secured their food carts with plastic wrap. 

“We’re not taking much stuff, are we?” Rebecca asked as Estefania looked over her list one final time. 

“Chef Doctor always provides the protein, and a lot of the smaller, harder to find, items,” she replied. 

“I wish he’d give us the name of his butcher,” James sighed as he carried in some hotel trays.

“He doesn’t wanna give it out?” Sam asked.

“No, it’s not that. We’ve never even asked. Too rude. Chef Doctor has a thing about rudeness,” Estefania replied, closing a cooler.

“Hey, why did he only hire sous chefs and no chefs?” Jorge asked as they began to walk toward the back door.

“Because _he’s_ the goddamn chef,” James replied with a smirk.

**+++**

In the van, en route to the Lecter home, the conversation once again turned to Hannibal. James, who in his day had the potential to become a great chef but now was content being a good chef who owned his own catering company, announced, “The man runs his kitchen better than most restaurants I’ve seen in my day. It’s a total Brigade System in there.”

“Was he a chef?” Rebecca asked.

“No, just really good at it,” said James.

“At everything,” Estefania added.

“So what’s this guy like?” Sam asked.

“Is he married, engaged, straight, gay?” Jorge asked with much interest. Everyone laughed. 

Estefania said, "No one knows. I’ve never seen him with anyone and this is my third time at one of his events.” She shrugged, “He’s a mystery.”

“The man is married to his work and food. Lecter is super private,” James added.

Sam piped in again, “I heard that the last sous chef he gave a recommendation letter to went on to work at The French Laundry. Truth or bullshit?”

“Totally true,” James replied.

“Damn.”

James then announced, “Okay, a few ground rules. Don’t touch anything, don’t ask him anything personal, and for fuck’s sake don’t steal anything. Got it?”

Everyone replied in mock unison, “Yes, sir!”

Estefania smiled as she looked at the homes fly by outside the van window. She’d always been curious about Chef Doctor and wondered what his deal was. The house was too big for one man. She was pretty certain there wasn’t anyone in his life -- was this by choice or circumstance? 

An overachiever to be sure. Polite, educated. Oof! Handsome as hell, so what _was_ the deal? He hadn’t found a woman able to live up his standards? Some glamorous Baltimore socialite to keep him company. Nah. Chef Doctor was too cool for some airhead socialite.

They pulled up to the side entrance of the house near the kitchen, where Hannibal stood waiting for them. He wiped his hands with a dish towel and smiled as they exited the van.

“Punctual as usual. Estefania, James, pleasure to see you all. Please, come in.”

**+++**

“Estefania, you’ll be my head sous-chef this evening. Here is the menu. I have the stations ready, so everyone may begin setting up their mise en place.”

“Thank you, Doctor Lecter,” she replied placing her pouch of knives on the table, and looking at the menu. “Oh, a tomato suspension?”

“Yes?”

“Lovely, Doctor Lecter. Just lovely.”

Hannibal nodded once and gave her a brief smile as he tied his apron on.

**+++**

“Did you get all of your mise done?” Estefania asked Jorge and Rebecca.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied.

“I just need to slice shallots, and then I’m ready,” Jorge said.

She looked over at Sam who was this evening’s garde-manager, “How’s it going?”

“Good, chef,” he said as he rolled out some pastry and continued working.

The group worked quietly and efficiently. Hannibal joined them in the middle of their stations, shirt sleeves rolled up, happily concentrating on the evening’s meal.

When the doorbell rang, Hannibal looked around the room as if to do a quick head count.

“Excuse me,” he said as he went to answer the door.

Jorge took the moment to nudge Estefania and mouth the words _He’s gorgeous_.

Estefania softly laughed, and waved Jorge to continue working.

“I’m surprised to see you here so early, Will -- but it is not an unwelcome one. Come in. Let me take your coat.”

“No...that’s okay. I just...I just came to say --” he then paused upon seeing everyone in the kitchen. “Wow. You have quite a team going,” Will said as he looked at the group. In his hand was a bottle of wine. A very nice, expensive bottle of wine.

Hannibal smiled and walked over to the counter to turn on his centrifuge. 

“I am glad you could make it Will,” Hannibal said with a sudden certain softness to his voice. 

Instantly Estefania could feel the electricity between the two men. Gone was the no nonsense, strict-schedule, task master. In his place, was a gentler, unguarded man. Just a man…no doctor, no chef here.

She felt as though she was intruding and wished she could have disappeared. Out of the corner of her eye, she eyed the guy in the room. Will. His name is Will. He appeared rather shy and quiet -- dressed plainly, and not at all what she imagined to be Chef Doctor’s type. 

“Actually, I can’t stay.”

Hannibal paused momentarily and asked, “Why?”

 _Just keep chopping, just keep chopping everyone,_ Estefania said to herself.

The disappointment was palpable, though both men were clearly clueless about it -- and each other.

“I just...I brought you this bottle of wine.”

Will and Hannibal looked at each other, then Hannibal stepped out of whatever private bubble he had momentarily allowed himself to be in, in front of all the people in the kitchen. He walked over to turn off the centrifuge.

“I have a butcher who carries sow’s blood. Centrifugate, separate the matter from the water. Creates a transparent liquid. Serve with tomatoes in suspension. Everybody will love the sweet taste.”

Will stood quietly watching Hannibal for a moment, his coat still on.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” he asked as he busied himself with his dish once more.

Will sighed, “I don’t think I’d be good company.”

“I disagree,” Hannibal said. He paused momentarily and said, “But before you go, what became of Mr. Silvestri’s donor?”

Will looked at Hannibal intently then said, “You saved his life.”

“It has been a long time since I used a scalpel on anything but a pencil.”

Will considers what Hannibal said and then asked, “Why did you stop being a surgeon?”

“I killed someone. More accurately, I couldn’t save someone. But it felt like killing them,” Hannibal said as he stopped working.

 _For the love of god, don’t look up...just keep chopping, just keep chopping everyone. Shiiiiit…._

“You were an emergency room surgeon. It has to happen from time to time.”

“It happened one time too many. I transferred my passion for anatomy into the culinary arts. I fix minds instead of bodies and no one’s died as a result of my therapy.”

Will studied Hannibal, wanting to say that he was sorry that happened, and that he wished he could tell him how extraordinary he thinks he is, and the way he saved that man in the ambulance was amazing -- to tell him everything he was thinking and feeling. 

Instead, Will smiled warmly and said, “I should go. I’ve got a date with the Chesapeake Ripper...Enjoy the wine.” Will placed the wine on the kitchen island in front of Hannibal and then walked away.

Hannibal nodded, and quickly added, “We’ll have it with dinner. Thank you.” One of the servers who was standing nearby then approached and took the wine away. 

Estefania finally discovered something the great Chef Doctor was not good at. Oh boy, _both_ of these men clearly stunk at this. She excused herself from the kitchen, and approached the server who was about to decant the wine. 

“We’re not serving this wine,” she said quietly taking the bottle.

**+++**

At the end of the evening, when the rest of the crew was packing up the van, Estefania walked up to Hannibal who was turning on the dishwasher.

“Excuse me, Doctor Lecter?”

“Yes?”

“I...I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude in any way, but I just wanted to let you know -- I saved this for you.”

She shoved the bottle of wine Will had brought in front of Hannibal. He stared at it for a moment, and then smiled as he took it from her hand.

Estefania blushed, and quickly walked out of the kitchen.

**+++**

Stumbling in at 3:00 a.m. after a long shift at the restaurant, Estefania was dead on her feet. It was all she could do to grab her mail from the overflowing slot, and crawl up the three flights of stairs to her apartment.

Finally reaching her couch, she collapsed and sunk in as she kicked her clogs off her throbbing feet.

The pile of mail that lay on her chest shifted forward and began to tumble over her shoulders. She managed to grab one envelope before it fell onto the living room floor. It was addressed in the fanciest handwriting she’d ever seen and that’s when she saw the return address. 

She jumped up and ripped open the envelope which contained a small note card and another envelope inside.

The note card read:

> _Dear Chef Estefania,_
> 
> _Enclosed you will find a recommendation letter for the restaurant of your choosing. I commend your strong work ethic, your attention to detail, and above all your passion to your craft._
> 
> _Thank you again._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _H. Lecter, M.D._

She reread it twice and then rubbed it, as if that would prove its authenticity. 

“What the what?” she said with glee. It was all she could do to not whoop at the top of her lungs and wake her annoying (soon-to-be-ex) roommate. She smiled and thanked the good Chef Doctor as she drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> For Devereauxs_Disease based on [this Tumblr post](http://devereauxsdisease.tumblr.com/post/149710889813/wrathofthestag-devereauxsdisease).
> 
> Mise en place is a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place." It refers to the set up required before cooking, or you know pushing two yahoos together.


End file.
